


hearts will be glowing

by biblionerd07



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Ice Skating, Mistletoe, Multi, Pining, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8874022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: Sam, working at Starbucks, is not feeling like it's the most wonderful time of the year. But when two really hot guys start inviting him to holiday events, he just might get some holiday cheer after all.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gothams_Only_Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothams_Only_Wolf/gifts).



> This is my All Caps Swap fic for [bamfcoyotetango](http://bamfcoyotetango.tumblr.com). Hope you enjoy it! It got...long. And please note my restraint in not using the "gay happy meetings" line of this song as a title. It was difficult but I powered through.

Sam sighed, chin resting on one hand. He wanted to go home. He had the whole day of work left, and it was too long. He didn't know if he could take this. He had a master's degree. He was a veteran. And he was working in a Starbucks.

Worst of all, it was December 1, and now that Thanksgiving was over, they were officially into the Christmas season. Most wonderful time of the year his _ass_. Christmas was, without a doubt, the most _shittiest_ time of the year in any retail industry.

He sighed again and his coworker, Natasha, harrumphed at him. "We all feel undervalued, okay? Stop over-polluting the air with carbon monoxide."

Sam rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut, only because he was a nice person and not because Natasha scared him a little. The bell above the door chimed. And chimed. And chimed. The midmorning rush had started, and Sam was not feeling it. He didn't care if he was spelling people's names wrong. He didn't care if the computer was taking a long time to get everyone’s praline mocha in. He just didn't _care_.

A woman in the line huffed loudly, pointedly crossing her arms. Sam made sure his face stayed politely neutral. He was annoyed and dissatisfied, sure, but that didn't mean he wanted to get fired, especially not over some asshole. If he was going down, it would be over something important and in a totally cool and dramatic way. The impatient woman got up to the register and gave him a glare. Oh, great. This was sure to be a fun customer interaction.

"How long does it take to get an order?" She snipped. Sam pasted a smile on his face.

"So sorry, ma’am.” He took her order and tried not to choke on his tongue when the two dudes next in line turned out to be two dudes he immediately dubbed Big Hunk 1 and Big Hunk 2.

“Hi,” Big Hunk 1, a blond guy with pecs bigger than Sam’s high school girlfriend, said. With a smile. A _genuine_ smile. Shit, Sam hadn’t gotten a genuine smile in days, probably, and certainly not one that radiant.

“Hi there,” he said, immediately smiling back. “What can I get you?”

“Just a tall black dark roast for me,” Big Hunk 1 answered. He turned to Big Hunk 2. “You decide yet?”

Big Hunk 2, missing an arm and more grizzled than his friend but in a way that was distinctly attractive, was squinting up at the menu. “What do you think?” He asked Sam. “Peppermint mocha or eggnog latte?”

Sam tried not to wrinkle his nose. Big Hunk 1 didn’t. “Both of those sound disgusting.”

Big Hunk 2 made a quelling noise. “Shut up and let the man give me his suggestion.”

Sam huffed a little laugh. “Well, I haven’t gotten near the eggnog latte with a ten-foot pole,” he admitted. “The peppermint mocha isn’t terrible if you like peppermint.”

“Which you obviously don’t,” Big Hunk 1 laughed. Sam tipped his head.

“He can’t cop to that at work,” Big Hunk 2 scolded. “He loves all these monstrosities, don’tcha, pal?”

“Oh, of course,” Sam said in his cheekiest innocent voice. That made the Big Hunks crack up and he let himself feel pretty smug about it. Until the lady from hell came back.

“Ex _cuse_ me,” she cut in. “You ruined my coffee!”

A headache started to build behind Sam’s left eye. “I’m sorry, ma’am, what seems to be the problem?”

“I said _one_ shot. This has two.” Sam was absolutely positive she said two shots. He had pretty excellent listening skills, as his masters in psychotherapy could attest. “ _And_ I wanted _light_ whipped cream. This is _not_ light.” She hadn’t said light, either. But Sam couldn’t argue with her. _The customer is always right_ , he chanted to himself. “I mean, my God, are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?”

“You said two shots,” Big Hunk 1 interrupted, eyes narrowing as his impressive chest puffed up indignantly. Sam was not going to _swoon_. He was not a damn fairytale princess.

“And you definitely didn’t say light whipped cream,” Big Hunk 2 added. The woman bristled and Sam was starting to lose his battle with swooning. Maybe he wasn’t a princess, but these two looked like his white knights.

“I most certainly _did_ ,” she protested. “I think I know my own coffee order.”

“Even if you did say it—which you didn’t,” Big Hunk 1 reminded her with a little smile that was somehow both polite and incredibly condescending. “That doesn’t mean you should be rude. Do you think his job’s easy?”

She sneered, because she obviously did. “He works at _Starbucks_ ,” she spat. And Sam just…stood there, all the warmth of their defense bleeding out of him. He was suddenly being choked by his own tongue because every mean thought he’d had about himself in the last six months was floating right up to the front of his brain, thanks to this woman with her asymmetrical suburbia haircut.

“So the fuck what?” Big Hunk 2 snapped. “You’re here getting coffee, ain’t you? If he didn’t work here, what would you do? Probably not make your coffee yourself, because you’re obviously a lazy fucking—”

“Okay!” Sam finally found his voice. “Wow, okay, let’s all just calm down, please.”

Big Hunk 1 grabbed his friend’s arm and started murmuring soothingly in his ear in a way that totally did not make Sam’s chest tighten up. It was especially hard given the dirty looks Big Hunk 1 was still throwing the woman.

“I _cannot_ believe this!” The woman was absolutely irate at this point. “I want to speak to your manager _immediately._ ”

And then Sam had to go through the humiliating task of calling Natasha over to diffuse the situation. After the woman had left—with her original coffee and a new one with her “correct” specifications, both free—Big Hunk 1 stepped back up to the counter.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, that was on us.”

“That fucking lady was fucking wrong,” Big Hunk 2 argued. Natasha pressed her lips together like she was holding back a smile.

“She definitely was, and she was incredibly disrespectful to your employee here,” Big Hunk 1 said. “But we mighta lost our tempers.”

“I know, I heard her order,” she said. “And she was a bitch.”

Sam couldn’t help the little snort he let out. He ran a hand over his hair. “Thanks,” he said to the Big Hunks. “Nice to get some affirmation that I’m not completely incompetent.”

“Well, you haven’t finished taking our orders,” Big Hunk 1 said, overly-solemn. “So we can’t be sure of that yet.”

Sam barked out a shocked laugh. “ _Wow_ ,” he said. “So that’s how it is?”

Big Hunk 1 was all smiley and smirking, and Sam’s stomach was fluttering away. “That’s how it is.”

And that’s how it started.

 

“Buck, come _on_ ,” Steve whined. “Hurry up and pick. You’re holding up the line and Sam’s gonna get yelled at again.”

“Shut up,” Bucky ordered without taking his eyes off the menu. Then he shifted his squint down to Sam. “Don’t you have a secret menu thing?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You know you can just order whatever flavors and pumps you want.”

Bucky fluttered his eyelashes. “Because you like me so much you’ll make me anything?”

Sam’s heart was _not_ fluttering along with those eyelashes. It wasn’t. “Because that’s how it works here.”

Steve cracked up and it wasn’t helping Sam’s heart situation. The Big Hunks had become regulars. And they turned out to have names, which Sam had figured was probably the case. It wasn’t like he thought their birth certificates said “Big Hunk 1” and “Big Hunk 2.” Besides, they definitely weren’t brothers.

They also turned out to be fellow veterans. Sam had _suspected_ , of course. Bucky was missing an arm, which was a big hint, but it wasn’t like veterans were the only people who ever got amputations. Steve had a spider-web of scars down his neck that dipped under his collar, but that was even less to go off. Finally, Steve had come in wearing an ARMY sweatshirt one day last week and Sam had mentioned the Air Force. Their good-natured teasing was worth the immediate extra level of comfort to all their interactions that wasn’t wholly logical but was there nonetheless.

“Okay,” Bucky finally said. “I’m gonna have the peppermint mocha _with_ caramel syrup and pumpkin sauce.”

Sam made a face but dutifully punched in Bucky’s order. Bucky seemed to be intent on ordering the most disgusting combinations possible.

“That’s disgusting,” Steve said, echoing Sam’s thoughts. “If you think I’m kissing you with that flavor on your tongue—”

“You will,” Bucky interrupted boredly. He winked at Sam, who did not blush. “Can’t keep his hands to himself with these kissable lips around.”

He did have very kissable lips. So did Steve. They both had very red, very soft-looking lips. When they put those lips together—

Sam cleared his throat to give them their total. Those were completely inappropriate thoughts for work. _No_ , he corrected himself. They were just completely inappropriate thoughts period.

He was kidding no one. He’d been thinking those completely inappropriate thoughts for a week and a half now, since they first came in.

“So,” Steve pulled Sam out of his reverie. “Do you celebrate Christmas?” It probably could’ve felt incongruous, but since they were solidly into December now, Christmas was everywhere. The speakers had been piping out carols for almost two weeks now, and the window displays all included holly and Santa Claus. Sam hated it.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, then lowered his voice to add, “Doesn’t mean I want to be surrounded by it this much for this long.”

Bucky nodded sympathetically. “I don’t abide Christmas music until Christmas Eve and then we have strict rules on what that music can be.”

“He’s not lying,” Steve said, looking almost in pain. “Not even a day earlier. In grade school he refused to participate in the Christmas pageant because it was the 18th.”

Sam barked out a laugh. “How’d you get out of it?”

“I’m Jewish,” Bucky said. Sam knew for a fact Bucky had ordered a gouda-bacon breakfast sandwich two days ago, but it wasn’t like he was going to say anything. Bucky laughed at the look on his face. “Alright, so I’m not exactly Orthodox, but still. Can’t force me to go against my beliefs like that.”

Steve rolled his eyes, looking so fond it hurt Sam’s stomach. “Anyway, we’re having a party Friday. You should come.”

“You won’t listen to Christmas music early but you’ll have a party?” Sam asked, heart thudding. They were inviting him to hang out. They _liked_ him. Okay, so they weren’t fantasizing about his lips or anything, but still.

“It’s a non-denominational winter holiday party,” Bucky said stubbornly. The man behind them in line cleared his throat and Steve and Bucky obligingly moved out of the way. The guy ordered with a nasty look at the three of them, which Bucky returned with interest. Steve looked like he was gearing up to say something, but Sam turned back to them and interrupted. He didn’t want to give away any more free coffee.

“What time?” He asked. “I’m working until eight.”

“Come after,” Steve insisted. “If you want. Don’t feel like you have to.”

“He knows how to socialize,” Bucky hissed. “Probably.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “I do know how to socialize,” he promised. “Pretty well, actually.”

“Great,” Steve said, beaming. “Let me get your number.”

“Cool,” Sam said, trying to sound totally casual and not like he was freaking out. Because he wasn’t. He knew how to make friends.

They got their coffees when Natasha called them out and then left, both saluting, both smiling, and Sam’s heart started to sink a little. Fantasizing about them when they were just customers was one thing. But fantasizing about them when they were _friends_? That felt wrong. Not to mention it would slowly kill him.

Maybe, he reasoned, he’d get to know them better and his little crush would fade. His phone buzzed. The morning rush was over and there were only two customers sitting at the tables, so he surreptitiously pulled out his phone.

 _Hi it’s Steve! :)_ The text read. The smiley face wasn’t even an emoji—it was an actual smiley face. Then Steve added his—their?—address and said _swing by after work!_

Sam sighed. This was probably not going to end well for him.

 

Sam swiped his hands down the side of his pants to dry them off. He took a deep breath and hit the buzzer for _Rogers-Barnes_. He could hear a blast of noise and fought nerves. As much as he said he was good at socializing, it had been a while. Sure, he had work, but he lived with his mother, so most of his socializing involved her and her church group friends, except every other Tuesday when he volunteered at the VA. He’d been volunteering there for six months now, and the director kept saying he’d love to bring Sam on full-time. So far, the budget _just wasn’t there_. The end of the year was _not_ the most wonderful time of year for government budgets.

“Here for the party?” An unfamiliar voice asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam said. “It’s Sam. Wilson?”

The door unlocked and he headed up to the seventh floor. He could hear the music as soon as he got out of the elevator—which had shuddered worryingly before letting him off—and he swallowed hard. He could do this. And if he couldn’t do this, he could leave.

He didn’t bother knocking, since no one was likely to hear it anyway, and slipped inside. There were way more people than he was expecting, but he didn’t see Steve or Bucky anywhere. After about four seconds of standing awkwardly in the doorway, he pushed through the crowd toward where he assumed the kitchen would be. He was at least going to get a drink if he was going to stand around.

He found Steve and Bucky sitting at a table wedged into the corner. Bucky was scowling and Steve was murmuring at a short guy wearing elf ears.

“—not what we had in mind,” Steve was saying, sounding furious.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I ruin your night by livening up your party?”

“Yes,” Bucky said. He caught sight of Sam and Sam’s stomach flipped when Bucky’s face lit up. “Sam! Hi!”

Steve spun away from the elf dude and grinned at Sam. “You made it! Hope work wasn’t too crazy.”

“Just the usual,” Sam said automatically. “Hi.”

“Want a drink?” Bucky asked. “Tonight _I’ll_ be the barista.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh and the elf’s eyebrows flew up to meet his Santa hat. “Who is this?” He asked. Steve narrowed his eyes.

“This is Sam,” he said, warning in his voice. “Sam, this is Tony.”

“Tony _Stark_ ,” elf-guy said. Now it was Sam’s turn to raise his eyebrows and Tony preened. “Yes, _that_ Tony Stark.”

Sam glanced over at Steve who was rolling his eyes and shaking his head, and then at Bucky, who dragged his finger across his throat in a slicing motion. Sam laughed again. Normally he’d probably freak out to be meeting _the_ Tony Stark, but really, right now, all he cared about was the attention he was getting from Steve and Bucky.

“Why don’t you go back out with your guests, Tony,” Steve suggested in a tone of voice that said it was actually not a suggestion whatsoever.

“Sure, sure,” Tony said, leering at Sam. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Sorry about him,” Steve said ruefully.

“He’s an asshole,” Bucky added.

Steve tipped his head, not disagreeing, but said, “He’s our friend. Sort of.”

“How do you know Tony Stark?” Sam asked, taking the beer Bucky offered.

“My grandfather was friends with his father,” Steve said. “Well, my—he wasn’t my _biological_ grandfather, but he was…he was my grandfather in all the ways that counted.” His face was going a little pink and Sam wanted to hug him. “Anyway!” Steve said brightly. “Bucky’s going to try to get you to try these peppermint shots but I’m warning you now, they’re as disgusting as you think.”

“They’re not the worst peppermint thing I’ve tasted,” Bucky defended his concoction.

“The peppermint-caramel-pumpkin mocha, right?” Sam asked. Just the smell of it had made Sam nauseated.

“No, Steve’s dick with peppermint foot powder on it.”

Sam choked on his beer and Steve glared. “It was peppermint _facial astringent_ ,” he corrected witheringly, like that was somehow less bizarre. “And stop telling people about that. We were seventeen.”

“You’ve been together that long?” Sam asked, a little ache in the back of his throat that he didn’t care to examine.

“Yeah, can’t seem to get rid of him,” Bucky said playfully. Steve rolled his eyes and kicked at the back of Bucky’s chair as he walked to the fridge.

“Are you hungry, Sam?” Steve asked. “We’ve got this cheese plate that was supposed to be for the party before Tony invited forty other people.”

“Ah,” Sam said. “I was wondering about that. You don’t seem the type for…”

“Raucous debauchery?” Steve suggested dryly, making Sam laugh again.

“Raucous debauchery?” Bucky echoed. “Who talks like that?”

“I do,” Steve said carelessly, pulling out the cheese plate. “Grab the crackers, wouldya?”

The three of them sat in the kitchen eating cheese and crackers and salami (“I got some salami for you if—” Bucky started to joke, and Steve shoved a cracker into his open mouth to shut him up) and throwing back disgusting peppermint shots, avoiding the crush of partygoers in the other room until two beautiful women with their arms around each other practically fell through the kitchen door. Steve immediately sat up straighter.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

“We’re fine, darling,” the one with dark red lipstick assured him, waving a hand. “Tony’s firebombs pack a bigger punch than I remembered.”

“Someone’s going to have to take Dugan home,” the other woman said. “He’s gonna get on that table in five more minutes.”

“Ah, jeez,” Bucky muttered. “The table can’t take that kind of abuse.”

Steve rubbed at his forehead. “This is not how this night was supposed to go.”

“I know,” Bucky murmured back soothingly. “It’s okay, though. We’re having fun.” He looked at Sam. “Right?”

“I’m having a great time,” Sam said honestly. He really was. That made Steve smile, all soft around the edges in a way that made Sam’s stomach swoop.

“Good,” Bucky said softly.

“Oh,” the lipsticked woman said. “I didn’t realize.” Sam looked at her, confused, and found her grinning. Steve was bright red and Bucky was shaking his head minutely.

“Well,” Bucky said loudly. “You ladies need something in your stomachs to soak up the alcohol?”

“No, no, we’re fine,” the woman said, turning a smile on Sam that made him feel decidedly like he was being examined. He stared back steadily. He didn’t know what the test was, but he knew he’d pass it.

“Peggy,” Steve warned.

“I just need a glass of water,” the other woman said, also looking at Sam curiously. “Then we’re going to get back to dancing. Tony said we might get karaoke going.”

Bucky winced. “Anything but that.” Sam had to agree. Karaoke with people he didn’t know was bad enough, but he just _knew_ it would be Christmas-themed and he was not feeling it.

Peggy laughed brightly as Steve grabbed a glass of water. Then the two women left again, the kitchen door swinging shut behind them and blocking out the bulk of the party noise.

“Do you guys want to go out there at all?” Sam asked. It was their party, after all. He felt a little bad that he’d come to the party and immediately hogged the hosts, even if that was exactly what he’d hoped would happen.

“Uh, no,” Steve said after a minute glance to Bucky from the corner of his eye.

“Me and crowds of strangers ain’t exactly friends these days,” Bucky said wryly. From what little he’d heard in between the guys ordering and then waiting for their coffee, Sam was pretty sure Bucky had been captured, and it made him want to wrap the guy up in a blanket and pet his hair for a few hours.

Not that he didn’t get that urge often when he saw the two of them.

“I _am_ gonna go turn down the music, though,” Steve said. “The Abernathys have a new _baby_ downstairs.”

Sam shook his head a little. Who _was_ this guy? How could a man be that perfect? Bucky laughed a little as Steve left.

“He’s ridiculous,” he said, somehow making it sound like a compliment. “He might be gone a while if he finds Peggy.” He rolled his eyes. “They’ll end up making out under the mistletoe.”

Sam felt his eyes widen. “What?”

Bucky huffed. “They were together for a while before Peg met Angie. They usually get drunk and make out at least once a year. They missed Halloween, so they’re due.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

Bucky shrugged. “I like Peggy. They had their thing and the three of us had some good times, but Peggy’s monogamous with Angie now,” he said, a little too cryptic for Sam’s understanding when he was three shots in. Bucky toasted Sam with another shot and Sam grimaced at the peppermint flavoring as it went down.

“These are nasty,” Sam said.

“’Tis the season,” Bucky replied stubbornly.

“You don’t even celebrate Christmas,” Sam said.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize Christians cornered the market on peppermint,” Bucky shot back. Sam snorted.

“So when’s the Hanukkah part of this party start?”

Bucky shrugged and looked at the fridge. “The salami’s kosher,” he said. “I could whip up some latkes. Steve’ll eat ‘em all, though, so we’d have to hurry before he gets back from sticking his tongue down Peggy’s throat.”

The music suddenly went way down, to a chorus of boos. Over the din, they could hear Steve saying scathingly, “We have _neighbors_.” Then he came back in the kitchen, shaking his head. “No respect,” he said to no one, sitting down next to Bucky a little heavily. His hair was mussed up a little in the back and Bucky gave Sam a knowing look.

“Have a few drinks out there, Rogers?” Bucky asked.

“One or two,” Steve said.

“Got a little lipstick on your collar, pal.”

Steve went a little pink but shrugged. “There was mistletoe.”

Bucky laughed. “I bet there was.”

Steve shoved at Bucky a little and said, “Eat some more salami.”

“You know I love sausage.”

They spent the whole party in the kitchen, eating and drinking and throwing crackers at each other. It was the best night Sam had had in a while, and he couldn’t decide if that was sad. He was twenty-six years old and _avoiding_ a party was his idea of a good time. He’d never been a big partier anyway, but he’d known how to have fun. He was a little worried he was starting to lose that. But then he made a joke that made Steve throw his head back and grab his chest as he laughed, and the warm feeling that slid into his stomach made it hard to worry anymore.

“I should head out,” Sam said regretfully around 12:30. He didn’t want to wake his mom when he got home late.

“We’ll walk you out,” Bucky said.

“You sure?” Sam asked. “You don’t have to go out there; it’s cool.” The party was still in full swing. More people had come in throughout the night. Someone was wearing some goddamn _jingle bells_ that were somehow loud enough to be heard over the party noise.

“I can handle it,” Bucky promised, and Sam didn’t press it. He’d know better than that even without all his time at the VA. They stepped out of the kitchen and immediately someone yelled, “Mistletoe!”

Bucky flinched slightly, but otherwise looked unamused. “Mistletoe,” he echoed flatly. “Wow, who could’ve possibly put mistletoe above our door?”

“Kiss!” Someone else yelled.

Sam swallowed hard. He was in the middle of Steve and Bucky and didn’t know if they were just going to lean around him to kiss. He certainly didn’t mind the idea of watching them kiss, but he didn’t really want to do that with a crowd, and it would probably hurt a little to watch them kiss without him when he wanted in on it, too.

They both turned and pressed kisses to his cheeks. Sam couldn’t help the way his mouth dropped open slightly. The middle of a Steve and Bucky sandwich. He’d fantasized about this, though it had admittedly gone a bit differently.

“Thanks for coming,” Steve said, lips brushing Sam’s ear as he leaned in to be heard.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Sam managed to say, working his hardest to keep his voice from catching.

“See you tomorrow for coffee,” Bucky added in the other ear, sending shivers down Sam’s back.

“Great,” Sam said.

He was right. There was _no way_ this was going to end well for him.

 

“So how was the party with your boyfriends?” Natasha asked the next day at work. Sam felt his face morph into a weird grimace-grin and Natasha looked slightly alarmed. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of them kissing his cheeks, but then he remembered that they probably thought nothing of it and didn’t mean it the way he wanted it and had to grimace.

“They’re not my boyfriends,” he muttered. Natasha’s eyes widened.

“ _Oh_ ,” she breathed. “I was joking. But you want them to be.”

Sam moved several feet away to concentrate _very hard_ on wiping down tables rather than Natasha’s pitying face or the phantom feeling of lips on his cheeks. He was being ridiculous. Kisses on the cheek were making him this much of a mess? Pathetic. He scowled at the dumb Santa painted in the front window display. Santa was a fucking creep and they shouldn’t have been encouraging that kind of behavior.

The bell chimed over the door and Sam just knew it was Steve and Bucky without looking up. His heart lurched and he couldn’t tell if he was excited or upset.

“Hi, Sam!” Steve said excitedly. He was always excited to see Sam. It hurt Sam’s stomach. But he forced himself to smile—no grimace this time—and greet them as he walked back to the counter.

“Really?” He asked after Bucky ordered black coffee. “Nothing sweet today?”

Bucky pulled a face. “Hungover.”

Steve grinned. “After we sent everyone home, Dugan challenged Bucky to mix all the leftover alcohol and see who could drink more of it.”

“So fucking chipper,” Bucky muttered, screwing up his face against the volume of Steve’s voice. “Never gets fucking hungover.”

“Maybe because _I_ know my own limits,” Steve taunted brightly. Bucky grunted at him and Sam laughed, ignoring the rush of fondness in his chest.

“Better get you a breakfast sandwich, too,” he said sympathetically, and then his mouth was moving without any okay from his brain to say, “You know, the best hangover cure is my mama’s five-alarm, greasy-spoon chili. Burn that hangover right outta your head and put hair on your chest, too.”

Bucky cracked an eye open. “You offering to make me some?”

Sam was momentarily tongue tied, but then he shrugged and said, “Sure. I get off at four-thirty.”

“I’ll still be hungover,” Bucky promised mournfully. Sam raised his eyebrows at Steve.

“I’m not hungover, but I could use some hair on my chest,” Steve said ruefully, making Bucky snort. But now it was awkward, because Sam needed to invite them to his house. He’d offered to make them dinner, so it was logical to do it at his place. His place that he shared with his mother. Well, actually, his mother’s place.

His mom wouldn’t care, and Sam knew, logically, that living with his mother wasn’t that out of the ordinary for a guy his age living in the city, especially considering his master’s degree. But it was still kind of embarrassing to admit that he’d lived on his own in the Air Force and school for eight years and then had to go crawling home to move back in with his mom. He should’ve been able to support himself. He should’ve been the one helping his mom, not the other way around.

“Okay,” Sam said, forcing his voice to go easy. “How’s six sound?” His mom would be gone at her bowling club. If they had to know he lived with his mother, she at least didn’t have to be there the first time they found out. “I’ll text you the address.”

“You’re the best,” Bucky said fervently while Steve beamed. Sam held in a wince. He wanted to read more into it but wanted to protect himself more.

“Wow,” Natasha said after they left. “Just wow.”

“Shut up,” he said, resuming his table-wiping and Santa-glaring.

“You know they flirt with you every time they come in, right?”

Sam blew out a breath. “They’re nice guys.”

Natasha snorted in a distinctly unladylike manner. Not that she would’ve cared if he’d pointed it out, and not that he ever would’ve. “They are nice,” she agreed. “But they don’t hang all over me when they come in _every day_.”

“They always say hi to you,” Sam pointed out stubbornly. Natasha was suddenly in his space, slapping a hand on the towel to stop him from cleaning the table.

“Denial,” she said. “That’s all.” She raised an eyebrow and walked away.

Whatever. She could say denial all she wanted; the truth was: self-preservation.

 

The buzz at the door made Sam close his eyes for a second, gathering his strength. It was totally possible to be friends with them. Just because they were both gorgeous, sweet, and funny didn’t mean he had to have a crush on them. Collectively.

He buzzed them in, shaking his head at himself. _Denial_.

“Wow, smells amazing in here,” Steve said as soon as Sam opened the door. “I can already tell you must be a phenomenal cook.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “He’s big on flattery when it means he gets free food.” Then he winked. “Not that it isn’t true.”

Steve elbowed him. “Get your own compliments and quit stealing mine.”

“Come on in,” Sam interrupted them. Then he blurted, “I live with my mom.”

Wow. Fucking _wow_. How smooth, he thought.

“Oh, is she here?” Bucky asked, sounding almost hopeful.

“Buck loves moms,” Steve said fondly.

“And moms love me,” Bucky confided. “Plus we gotta thank her for raising such a great kid.”

Sam was blushing. It was a combination of their flattery and his big mouth. And, he comforted himself, the heat from the stove. Because he’d been cooking. So it was probably that.

“Uh, no, she’s in a bowling club.”

“Bowling?” Bucky crowed, delighted. “I have to meet her. She sounds as perfect as you.”

Sam floundered a little. He was not an unattractive man. He was used to being flirted with. And he was pretty sure Bucky was flirting with him. He swallowed hard.

“Thanks for inviting us,” Steve said, suddenly at Sam’s elbow. Sam did not jump. Steve’s hand on Sam’s arm was big and warm and made Sam’s eyes want to wide. He reigned it in, though. He had _some_ game.

It took about two bites of chili before Steve and Bucky were both hurting. Sam could see it in their faces, though they were trying. Steve’s started as a sniffle and Bucky’s eyes were watering.

“I did say it was five-alarm,” Sam reminded them.

“We’re fine,” Steve said.

“Really curing my hangover,” Bucky added. “Thanks.”

“I can get you the sour cream to help tone it down a little,” Sam teased. “It’s blasphemy to add sour cream, but I won’t tell my mama.”

“That so,” Bucky murmured, smirking, and Sam’s stomach jolted.

“Please,” Steve said, pained now. “I need the sour cream.”

Sam was a nice guy, but he still laughed. He was only human. “So you two have been together since you were teenagers, huh?” He asked once he came back with their dollops of Daisy.

“Yeah,” Steve said, at the same time Bucky countered,

“Longer.”

Sam raised his eyebrows and they looked at each other. Steve rolled his eyes. “We weren’t together before then. We’ve been friends since we were in diapers.”

“Since Steve was in diapers,” Bucky corrected. “I was early potty-trained.”

Steve shook his head at Sam wearily. “Anyway. We were friends but Buck was real popular with the girls and didn’t even look my way.”

Bucky scoffed. “I didn’t _stop_ looking his way even with my hand up a girl’s skirt, and he was so oblivious his didn’t even notice.”

Sam laughed at Steve’s scowl. “He does seem the oblivious type.”

“Et tu?” Steve asked, pressing a hand to his heart.

“You just seem so sweet and innocent,” Sam said with an apologetic shrug. Steve’s cheeks went a little pink. Oh God. Sam was flirting with him. He cut his eyes over to Bucky, who was watching them with a smile on his face.

“It’s a ruse,” he told Sam. He leaned closer and Sam watched his tongue flick out to wet his lips. “Steve is a real pervert.”

It was so not what Sam was expecting, and it startled a laugh out of him. Steve was bright red now. “I’m not a pervert,” he said, mustering up some dignity as he spooned more sour cream into his chili. “I’m just adventurous.”

That was more what Sam was expecting, and his mouth went a little dry as he tried his utmost not to picture it. He would _not_ picture it. Not even after they left.

Okay, he most likely would, but that was his business.

“I just like ‘em real oblivious,” Bucky mused. “’s cute.”

Steve huffed. “It is, but I’d rather get down to business.”

Now they’d left Sam behind. He looked back and forth between them, but they were having a conversation without words.

“My hangover is cured,” Bucky finally announced, licking his spoon in a way that had Sam squirming slightly. “You’re so talented, Sam. Making coffee _and_ chili? You ever think of opening your own restaurant?”

Sam barked out a laugh. “Those are literally the only two things I can make besides scrambled eggs. And the machines do most of the work with the coffee. So, no. I’ll stick to psychology and counseling.”

Steve rested his chin on his hands, giving Sam his full attention. “What made you want to get into counseling?”

Sam shrugged. “You know how it is,” he said. “Got out, had a hard time dealing, figured I could help other people getting out and having a hard time.” He didn’t mention Riley or the nightmares that had plagued him for years. They would understand, he was sure; there was almost no chance they didn’t know how losing someone felt. But even though Sam had been home a while now, and he was pretty well-adjusted by now, he wasn’t going to just slip Riley into casual conversation. He couldn’t.

Steve was smiling at him again, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You’re a real good person.”

Bucky nodded solemnly and Sam floundered a little. They were both just watching him so attentively, _listening_ to him, and it was almost overwhelming.

“Uh, you guys want any more?” He asked, unsure what else to say. Steve winced.

“I think I’m officially too white for this,” he said apologetically. “Thank you, it was delicious, but I can’t really feel my tongue anymore.”

 _I’ll feel it for you_ , Sam almost said. He bit his own tongue to stop himself. Jesus. “You got through a whole bowl,” Sam said instead. “I’m proud of you.”

“I’ll take some more,” Bucky decided. “I can’t taste much ‘cause of my fucked up brain and really spicy stuff comes through. It’s nice.”

“TBI?” Sam asked. Bucky nodded.

“Took my arm, took my taste, took a few _pieces_ of mind…” But he grinned. “Couldn’t take my stellar sense of humor.”

“Oh, sure, glad they left that one intact,” Steve groused, rolling his eyes. Bucky kicked him under the table.

“Anyway, Sam, we’re going ice skating tomorrow. You want to come?” Bucky asked. “Steve’s worried I’ll plummet to my death on account of my unbalanced body.”

“And he wants me to help hide the body?” The sarcasm rolled out of Sam’s mouth easily, and he was rewarded by Steve and Bucky laughing. He preened a bit. There was just something about busting Bucky’s balls that gave him a real thrill. He stopped himself from thinking about other things with Bucky’s balls that would give him a thrill. “I’m not great at ice skating,” he warned.

“Aw, don’t worry,” Bucky said. “I’ll hold your hand.”

“No, you won’t,” Steve cut in, and Sam thought for a second Steve was mad about the _blatant flirting_ , holy shit. “You only have one and you need it for balance.” He gave Sam a smile. “ _I’ll_ hold your hand.”

Bucky left his spoon in his mouth to leave his hand free to flip Steve off. Steve puckered his lips in response and Sam had to look away lest he lean over and capture said lips. Jesus. Either they were flirting with him or they were completely fucking oblivious about how they sounded. Maybe they were always like this and Sam was extra sensitive because he was maybe—possibly—harboring some tiny crushes.

“Alright,” he heard himself say, and his voice was steady. Good job. “But I better not bruise my ass.”

Steve looked him in the eye, smirking, and said, “And what’ll happen if you do?”

Sam’s heart was pounding now, which made it the perfect time for his mother to come home. Two hours early.

“Oh, Mom!” Sam yelped, losing all his earlier cool. He was practically half-hard under the table from a little flirting. This was getting out of hand. Heh. He could think of some things he wanted to get out of hand. _God,_ _stop_ , he told his brain.

“Hi, baby,” his mom called from the entryway. “Smells like chili. I mighta sprained my wrist so I can’t bowl. Your friends come over yet?”

“Whoa, what?” Sam asked, springing up from his chair. “What happened to your wrist?”

She came into the kitchen and saw Steve and Bucky. Steve looked oddly like he was trying to make himself smaller, hunching his shoulders with a bit of a cowed look on his face, while Bucky put on that charming smile Sam had seen so much of.

“I see where Sam gets his good looks,” Bucky said, popping up and standing in front of Darlene. “Hello, ma’am, I’m Bucky Barnes, and I was just saying how you really did a great job raising Sam here.”

Sam rolled his eyes a little, looking over at Steve, who rolled his eyes right back, mouthing, _every time_.

“Why, thank you,” Darlene said. “Your nose is running, sugar.”

“It’s that chili,” Bucky answered, not even a little embarrassed. “It’s a little too much for me but I can’t get enough.”

“Oh, I like you,” Darlene said. “I thought I wouldn’t when you came at me all full of shit, but I do.”

Bucky laughed, surprised, and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a mother swear at me.”

“That is the biggest lie you’ve ever told,” Steve said. He’d been on his feet the entire time, hovering a little awkwardly. “Hi,” he said, waving dorkily. “I’m Steve. Rogers. Friend of Sam’s. And Bucky’s.”

Darlene turned to give Sam a look, and Sam couldn’t hold in a little snort. “Nice to meet you boys,” Darlene said. “I’ll pretend I don’t see that sour cream on my table next to the chili.”

“Sorry,” Steve said immediately. “I’m Irish.” He rubbed his forehead. “Do you need help with your wrist? I’m pretty good at ice and bandages.”

“He got in a lot of fights when he was a kid,” Bucky revealed. “Couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

“I think Sam can handle it,” Darlene said, and Sam cringed a little because he knew exactly what she was going to say next. “He was pararescue, you know.”

Steve and Bucky turned wide eyes on him. “We did not know,” Bucky said. “He told us he was in the Air Force but left that part out.”

“My Sammy is very modest,” Darlene said, because she wasn’t.

“And very badass,” Steve added. “Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot,” Darlene pointed out. “You must’ve gotten in trouble a lot.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve agreed. “My ma made sure I apologized around anyone else’s parents in case they were offended by swearing.”

“She swore like a sailor herself,” Bucky remembered fondly. The past tense didn’t escape Sam, and he felt a little stab in his heart. He thought of his father and wondered if there would come a day when he knew Steve well enough for them to talk about it. He hoped so.

“Um, Mom, what happened to your wrist?” He asked. He couldn’t just sit there in the kitchen flirting with them and leave his mom to doctor herself up alone.

“Oh, you know that old bat, Greta Simpson? She bought a brand new ball and it’s a twelve-pounder. Well, that’s too heavy for her but _she_ didn’t think so and I said yes it is and she said it’s not so I said take a look at this, it’s bending my wrist and…” Darlene shrugged. “It did.”

“Okay,” Sam said, feeling it gently. It wasn’t broken, and probably wasn’t even really sprained, but he could feel a little swelling. “How about you go into the bathroom and I’ll come in and wrap it up for you?”

“Thank you, baby.” She patted his cheek with her uninjured hand. “Nice to meet you two,” she said to Steve and Bucky.

“Pleasure’s ours,” Bucky assured her.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Steve said, looking vaguely guilty.

“Sorry,” Sam said to them. “I gotta—” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder, down the hall.

“Hey, your mom’s your mom,” Steve said immediately. “You gotta take care of her. We’ll take care of these dishes and get out of your hair.”

“You do not have to do my dishes,” Sam protested.

“You cooked,” Bucky said. “It’s only fair we clean up.”

“You’re guests,” Sam countered.

“You are not going to win a politeness _or_ a stubbornness contest with me,” Steve warned him. “I am doing the dishes and Bucky is wiping down that table.”

Bucky laughed a little. “That’s his captain voice,” he told Sam in an undertone. “Used to get me real hot and bothered.”

“Used to?” Steve muttered, going straight to the sink.

“Well…alright,” Sam said helplessly. “Thanks. I’ll just be down the hall. Yell if you need anything.”

Darlene was giving him the mom face the second he was within range. “Mmhmm,” she said. “And _when_ were you going to tell me you were dating two handsome boys?”

“Mom,” Sam hissed, scandalized. “I’m not dating them.”

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Not yet, maybe.”

“Can I please wrap your wrist and get back to my guests, whom I left in the kitchen doing the dishes?”

“They’re doing the dishes?” She asked. She huffed. “You better date them or I will.”

“Okay, gross,” Sam said. He tucked the ice pack around her wrist and made sure the Ace bandage wasn’t too tight. “I’ll wrap it up secure after you’re done icing,” he told her. “If it still hurts tomorrow you should probably go to the doctor.”

“And you should go to the love doctor,” Darlene said. Sam gave her a flat look.

“Did you have cocktails before bowling?”

“Honey, have you ever been bowling? You don’t drink cocktails before bowling. Golf, maybe, or tennis. I had three shots of whiskey.”

“I’m sure that had nothing to do with your little bowling ball tiff that got us here,” Sam said.

“You’re crabby,” Darlene said. “Sorry I’m getting in your way. Sounds like you needed a little loving.”

“Oh my God,” Sam moaned. “I will check on you in ten minutes. Maybe you should go lie down. I’ll bring you some Advil.”

Darlene smiled at him, more serious now, and patted his cheek. “Thank you, Sammy boy. I’m lucky you’re here.”

Sam ducked his head, a little guilty about all the times he’d wished he wasn’t living with his mother. “Thanks, Mama.”

He went back out to find Steve drying the last dish. Bucky had cleared the table and wiped it down and was watching Steve finish the dishes.

“So, we’ll see you tomorrow?” Bucky checked. “You’re off work, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, forcing himself not to get giddy over Bucky apparently knowing his work schedule. “Sounds good.”

Steve dried off his hands and Bucky stood up, apparently taking their cue to leave. And then Bucky wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, the rumble of his chest vibrating against Sam’s side.

“Um,” Sam answered eloquently. “Thank you.” Bucky quirked a little grin at him. Then Steve came over and gave Sam a hug—a full body hug, like warmth personified wrapping him up. Sam wondered if he’d died. Maybe his mother killed him in the bathroom and this was heaven. He didn’t think his mother would kill him on purpose, but it almost made more sense than the idea that this was actually happening.

“See you tomorrow,” Steve murmured.

“Bye,” Sam said, kind of dazed.

They left, and Sam ignored his mother’s pointed gazes and knowing mutters all night.

 

Sam had just sort of assumed they’d be going to Prospect Park for skating. He’d gone a lot as a kid and a few times in college. It was festive. But Steve sent him a text with a different address, so Sam ended up squinting up at a little building with peeling paint. Steve and Bucky came up on either side of him.

“This isn’t what I expected,” he mentioned. He wanted to kick himself when he felt Bucky’s shoulder stiffen.

“I can’t do crowds,” Bucky reminded him. “Not real well.”

“I don’t love crowds either,” Steve piped up.

“Well, I sure do,” Sam deadpanned. “Love getting elbowed in the face by a stranger.”

“We can arrange that,” Steve promised very seriously.

“Are you real attached to it being a stranger?” Bucky added.

“Real funny,” Sam said. They went inside and Steve immediately pulled out his wallet.

“We need three pairs of skates,” he told the girl.

“Hey,” Sam started to protest. Bucky gave him a stink eye.

“Steve’s treat,” he said. Steve, for his part, was completely ignoring Sam’s protest as the bored girl behind the cash register rang them up.

They sat down on a bench to put their skates on, and it took Sam a minute to notice Bucky was just sitting there, waiting. Sam’s throat started to get a little tight when he realized Bucky couldn’t tie his own skates.

“Need a hand?” Sam asked, purposefully wiggling his eyebrows at his pun to soften the blow. Bucky snorted.

“If you’d be so kind.” He was keeping his tone light, but Sam could see the way his teeth were clenched.

Steve was already working on the other one, kneeling in front of Bucky with his own skates lying on the ground beside him. “Come on down here,” he said. He blushed a little as he added determinedly, “We’ll double-team him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky muttered. “Right here in the lobby, huh?”

“Wow,” Sam breathed as he dropped to the ground. “Okay.”

“I told you,” Bucky reminded him. “Perverted.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” Sam said. He bumped his shoulder into Steve’s playfully. His stomach was full of butterflies as he said, “Hope it’s not the last I see of it.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open. Steve’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Well, well,” Bucky leered. “Does this mean you’re finally catching on?”

“What?” Sam asked, heart pounding because he had a pretty good idea of what. “Catching on to what?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “We’ve been flirting with you for weeks.”

Sam’s mouth was desert-dry. “You have?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Bucky snorted. “We threw a party just so we could invite you. I threw a _Christmas-themed_ party when I don’t celebrate Christmas because _you_ celebrate Christmas.”

Steve huffed. “And to think, all it took was getting you on your knees in front of Bucky.”

Bucky hooted with laughter. “Not like it’s the first time it’s happened.”

“You really have been?” Sam asked, voice way more serious than he wanted it to be. Natasha had said, and his mother, but…well, they had each other. Sam could tell they loved each other. Did they really want to add him to that? Both their faces softened. Sam still had Bucky’s foot in his lap, and Steve moved closer so their arms were pressed together.

“Yeah,” Steve said quietly. “We think you’re really something.”

“I work at Starbucks.” Sam was staring down at the skate on Bucky’s foot.

“I work nowhere,” Bucky countered. “Who the fuck cares where you work? This ain’t a job interview. We don’t care about your experience.”

“Well…” Steve started. Bucky rolled his eyes and Sam laughed a little.

“The first day you guys came in I called you the Big Hunks,” he admitted, making them both laugh. He squared his shoulders, looking them both in the eye in turn. “But I, uh…I’m not looking for casual. I’m not just some guy who’s going to come spice up your sex life.” He’d been there, gotten his heart broken, still had the mixed CD. No thanks.

Bucky leaned down and put his hand on Sam’s cheek and Steve let his hand drift to Sam’s thigh. “Sam,” Bucky said. “We don’t need any help spicing up our sex life.”

Steve scoffed a little, giving Bucky a dirty look. “What he means is, we really like you. I practically walked into a lamppost after the first time we met you. Okay? If you’re willing, we’d like to give this a shot. All three of us.”

“Your ma was real sweet on me,” Bucky pointed out. “I think she knew you liked me and I _know_ she could tell I like you.”

Sam bit his lip. “So this is a date?” He asked. He hadn’t been on a date in a long time. He’d been too busy feeling sorry for himself and trying to find a “real” job.

“Best damn date I’ve ever planned,” Bucky promised.

“He’s not kidding,” Steve said mournfully. “He pulls out all the stops for you.”

Sam ducked his head, smiling so big his cheeks were going to be sore. “Well,” he said. “If that’s the case…” They both looked at him eagerly. “I want three hotdogs from the concession stand. And a pretzel and maybe some popcorn.”

Bucky kicked gently at Sam with the side of his skate and Steve snorted into his shoulder. They went out onto the ice and Steve did, in fact, hold Sam’s hand. Bucky held the other one, and when Steve fell onto the ice, windmilling, he took all three of them down in a heap. Sam was being crushed by both Steve and Bucky, but he found he didn’t really mind all that much.

They took their hot chocolate to go, all three sniffling from the cold, and walked into the light flurry of snowflakes outside. Sam burned his tongue a little and Steve stepped closer.

“I could, uh, help you out with that if you want?” He suggested. Sam was pretty sure the bright red of his face was no longer thanks to the ice skating or the wind outside, but he was helpless to find Steve anything but completely adorable. He nodded and Steve bit his lip before leaning in close to give Sam a sugary kiss, nuzzling their noses together and smiling. Sam sighed a little.

“Alright, fair’s fair,” Bucky said. He tugged at the end of Sam’s scarf and Sam went more than willingly. Bucky’s kiss was a little deeper, a little dirtier, and Sam could taste the gross peppermint flavoring he’d put in his hot chocolate out of an effort to play up the season. Not celebrating Christmas or not, Bucky was apparently pretty big into seasonal gimmicks, and though Sam usually hated the flavor, it didn’t taste so bad coming off Bucky’s tongue.

Then they just went on walking, like this was totally normal. Sam was grinning, stomach all full of butterflies and giddy at the idea that it would be from then on. He smiled to himself, searching doorways. They were bound to find some mistletoe soon, and Sam was not going to waste it.

It was, after all, the most wonderful time of the year.


End file.
